I walked to and from my apartment to the school. I enjoyed the streets of the capital, the monuments and museums. I became familiar with downtown. I had no car but, one fall weekend, decided to rent an automobile. Brockie went with me to get the car which I drove as he did not have a driver's license, most unusual for an American. Of course, on his salary from the Corcoran, he could not have afforded a car anyway. I was not used to driving on, what I considered the wrong side of the road, and had difficulty with automatic drive. I made big mistakes within the first hour of driving. In England, the traffic lights were on the corner of the street, not suspended in the sky. I went through three red lights, one after the other. Brockie was horrified as was the police officer who pulled us over, flashing lights and sirens on. He came out of his car, an impressive figure with revolver, truncheon, flashlights and handcuffs hanging off his belt. I'd never been close up to an American cop and had only seen them on movies. I did get the window open; he bent down, removed his sun glasses and asked what I was doing through three red lights. Looking up at him, I responded, “Constable, I had no idea that the red light was up there, hanging in the sky. I never saw the lights”. The traffic cop glared and thundered, “Gawd damn, I’ve got me a limey!” He checked by license, told me to be careful and waved me on my way. From that moment, I drove with far greater care and attention, realizing I was in a foreign land.
Even the language of the road was different and. When going down the interstate, I remarked, “What a nice central reservation.” Brockie looked around bemused. I told him that the central reservation the divide in the middle of the highway. He explained that was not so in the USA and that he had been puzzled as he knew of no Indian Reservation on that road. Many more confusing differences in the language that day from round a bout (traffic circle) to…… On that first drive we went to Annapolis and, much to my delight, visited the attractive and beautiful waterfront.
The art museums and art scene were great disappointments after spending six weeks in Manhattan with its modern museums and vibrant galleries. The biggest disappointment was visiting the art museums as I had come with much excitement to the nation's capital. Throughout the world, in other countries, the capital houses the major museums of art and culture of that country. Obviously, such was not the case in DC where, at that time, there was no evidence of the great modern American masters. Except for the Phillips Gallery and Gallery of Modern Art, a fledgling venture on Dupont Circle, there was little evidence of modern art. In August I had visited the Albright Knox Museum of Art in Buffalo. I was in awe of the contemporary sculpture in the grounds; the fine collection and modern art in the galleries, with the extraordinary paintings of Clifford Still. I could not wait to get to the capital. I thought that if a small, industrial and remote city like Buffalo could how such an extraordinary collection, what treasures awaited me. What a disappointment to arrive and, in comparison, find little modern art in the drowsy District of Columbia. The Corcoran Gallery of Art had the only contemporary art on view; that was the work of Ronald Bladen and Tony Smith that filled the atrium. The sculptures were "Smoke" by Smith and Bladen's "X". These huge wooden works, built in situ, towered above the viewer, reaching up two storeys high; indeed, memorable.
Ronal Bladen "X" :sculpture in process of installation Corcoran Gallery of Art atrium 1967.